


Kings of Everything

by glittercake



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Club Owner Sam, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Misleading Narrative, Mob Boss Bucky, Mobster AU, Non-Linear Narrative, Time Skips, Unreliable Narrator, casual reference to murder, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercake/pseuds/glittercake
Summary: Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 35
Kudos: 183





	Kings of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> 1) a quick thanks to my best hoe Sof for beta reading, so any mistakes are her fault ^_^
> 
> 2) for ease of reading, since they're only properly named later on: 'Doll' is Sam and 'Jimmy' is Bucky.

**Dugan Family Estate, Florida, 2016**

Timothy Dugan agrees to meet with the lovely Miss Lilly Davis. She's the first to attempt making Jimmy and Doll's story into a film. 

Before she arrives, Greta sets out some tea and banana bread for them, she brings him his pills and water to swallow it down, then leaves him with his little wooden box of memories.

Inside are yellowed polaroids and newspaper clippings, some AK shells, and his and Jimmy's dog tags. 

There's a picture of Jimmy saying something into Doll's ear—he wore the bright pink suit that day—whatever it was, made Doll laugh so hard his head tipped back. Another photo is one the papz took of Jimmy leaving Doll's club. Another papz shot shows Jimmy and Morita talking business at some diner; he kept his shades on. There's one of Tim, Jimmy, and all their men: standing on the dock, wearing suits with open collar shirts, cigar smoke swirling around them, Jim's grin is as wide as it's ever been. 

But Tim's favorite picture is the one where Doll's telling one of his elaborate stories of all the famous jerks that came into his club and Jimmy's staring at him, chin in his hand, like Doll is the moon- shimmering and gleaming and surrounded by stars. 

He never misses them quite as much as when he remembers their love for each other. 

"Mr. Dugan, your guest is here." 

"Let her in, Greta."

Tim watches from his rocking chair in the sunroom as Greta guides the young Miss Lilly inside. Somehow she looks exactly the way he imagined her, short black hair, thick glasses, a wide, warm grin all nestled in a terribly big cardigan that hangs off her shoulder. Reminds Tim of his granddaughter. 

She immediately extends her hand, "Mr. Dugan, it's such a pleasure. I'm Lilly Davis."

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am. Please sit." He shows her to the couch beside him. It used to be emerald green, but the sun's faded it to a dull "moss color," as his lovely wife says. 

He thinks with all the cash stacked up in its base; it can be whatever the hell color it wants.

Lilly takes a look around, at the ceiling-high bookshelves, the vintage record player, and finally, the portrait of Jimmy and Tim framed in gold above the fireplace.

Dragging her eyes back to Tim, she says, "Thank you for meeting with me. I don't know if my publicist explained the reason for my visit request?"

Tim lights up a smoke and nods, "You're making a film." 

"Yes. There's so much speculation about what happened that night, and I don't so much want to set the record straight, as tell a story that might be a little closer to the truth." She tips her head in a sideways nod, "Well, as close as we can get, right?" 

Tim winks at her, "I'll certainly do my best." Truth is a matter of circumstance, as he has learned so very well over the years. What's true today is not so tomorrow. 

She sets up a little recording device and opens a fancy-looking notebook, pulls out an even fancier looking pen, and looks at him expectantly. 

"Tell me about December 16th, 1991."

Timothy Dugan pulls one long, deep drag of his smoke. Closing his eyes is all it takes to put him right back in Brooklyn, in the prime of his youth.

"Started with a shipment comin' into New York." he says, "big massive motherfucking unit full of pure, uncut H. Now since Blue Magic and Frank Lucas no one touched that stuff anymore. Not on this scale. But Jimmy was a quick thinker, had that job planned and executed before anyone could blink about it.

"Back then, the lines were clear. You stay in your borough; you mind your goddamn business in your borough, you don't ask questions about shit that happens if it ain't happening in your borough. Was supposed to be a smooth job. 

"The problem happened when the other Bosses got wind of this. You know people don't shut up. That's why so many idiots got offed running their mouths about the work we do."

Lilly nods, "Just to confirm, _they_ were who exactly?"

Tim digs around in his box and takes out three mugshots.

"So there was Anthony Stark from Queens," he shows her the first mug shot: Tony with his goatee and three-piece. "You got Big-T down in Staten Island." He shows her the photo of T with his eyepatch and blonde ponytail. The last is of Jimmy's most noteworthy nemesis, "And Stevo up in Manhattan."

Lilly arranges the photos beside each other on the coffee table and takes a snap of it with her phone. 

"And then there was Jimmy Piper. Brooklyn, New Fuckin' York."

A little fire lights up in Lilly's brown eyes, and she fails to hide a curious smile, "We're talking about James Buchanan, yes?"

Tim feels a tug of something very fond and long gone in his chest. He hasn't heard Jim's real name since the story broke, and every radio station and printer in town spewed it around like they knew him. If they really did, they'd know he hated his last name, said only the pigs used it.

"They called him The Piper." Tim says, "Story goes, he choked a guy stone cold with a plumbing pipe he broke off in some alley. Twisted it right around in his bare hands like it was nothin'. That's the story. Ain't no one around to say if it's true anymore, you know, because a snitch vanishes like mist at daybreak. And that was before he took me in. But you don't wanna be messin' around with him to find out, you know. So you do what Jimmy wants when he wants, how he wants."

"That's how you all got involved with the shipment?" asks Lilly.

Tim nods, "No one asked any questions. We started makin' arrangements to bring the carrier in, got a crew to meet 'em at the docks, another crew to handle the storage, got some downtown cops with empty pockets involved so they'd be out on patrol. An empty factory upstate to cook the shit up and distribute."

"So you said the bosses got wind that Mr. Buchanan had a deal coming in. How'd you find out they knew?"

"Jimmy and Jones had been out that night. You gotta know something about Jimmy. You probably do already 'coz of all the stories runnin' around about him."

"Mr. Buchanan was gay, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think only us boys really knew for sure. Didn't matter; no one said shit about it. Is what it is, and all. Anyway, his sweetheart owned a club in Harlem."

Lilly gets that smile again, "This is the infamous Sammy Wilson?"

Again, Tim's chest feels a little tighter. He takes out the photo of Jimmy and Doll—the one where Doll's got that damn pink suit on—and slides it over to Lilly. She's probably seen pictures of Samuel Wilson before, but still, she whispers a soft, "Oh, wow."

"That's him. His friends called him Doll, started out as a joke just to rib Jimmy a little, the way he was so stupid around the guy. All you'd hear was _dollface dollface dollafce._ Guess it stuck. But let me tell you something, that guy. He'd have us eating 'till we're about to roll whenever we visited the club, had drinks on the house girls in our laps, best kinda music playin'. Had the time of our goddamn lives.

"He dressed real sharp too- flashy, like any of us do when you wanna make an impression. But he'd go the extra mile, you know, he'd wear that stuff that made his face fuckin shiny, nail polish like a broad. Made himself look nice. Jimmy liked that real bad. No one could ever prove it, but we knew Midnight Runs ain't have nothin' to do with the liquor stocks or the ammo supply checks or any kinda meeting you'd wanna be in the room for.

"Couple of us went with Jimmy once to this beauty store; he spent an hour talking up a broad about nail polish. After that, he dragged us down to Casey's—"

"—The Jeweler? Got arrested in 91' too?" 

"The one and only. And it ain't like we ever saw what he bought or inquired 'bout his purchases. But the next week, you'd see a picture of Doll in the papers flashing a hand at the camera, bright blue nails and a diamond the size of Texas on his finger.

"I guess now I know why Jimmy looked like Christmas coming back from his so-called Midnight Runs around the city."

Lilly decides to butter a slice of banana bread, and pour them each a cup of tea. She looks a little devilish when she sits back, "And what exactly were Midnight Runs?"

Tim laughs, "Now I'm a gentleman, Miss Lilly. Let's just say you'd find Jimmy's Shelby parked in Harlem with the windows all steamed up."

She chuckles too, but writes something down in her fancy notebook, "Back to the shipment?"

"Yeah, yeah, so the Bosses of the other boroughs get wind that Jimmy's got this box comin' in, lots of rumors about what it is 'coz the stories get mixed up, you know. Then it's diamonds; then it's crack, then it's gold. But they all knew it was something valuable. 

"So while Jimmy and Jones are out, someone comes knockin' on Jimmy's apartment door. It's just me and Morita, Denier and Jimmy's baby sister Becca—broad could knock a guy right back where he came from, so she hung around with us—and we look at each other. There's this unspoken rule that if they come knocking after midnight, it's trouble. Anything but trouble can wait 'till the next day."

"Mind if I use that line for the film?" 

"Sure thing," Tim smiles at her, he can't imagine watching this film about their lives, but he trusts Lilly to do it justice, "Morita's the one who answers, and it's Scotty and Ugly Clint- Stevo's guys from Manhattan."

"Ugly Clint??" Lilly sputters on her tea, giving Tim a curious look, high eyebrows and all.

"Well…" says Tim, "He was." and Lilly giggles for a good couple of seconds while looking Barton up on the internet. 

Tim continues when she's composed herself, "He says they wanna speak with Jimmy. We tell 'em Jimmy ain't here. Then they say _'well, who's in charge if Jimmy ain't here?'_ So I step forward, and Scotty doesn't back up, but Ugly Clint does 'coz I'm a big guy, you know. 

"So Scotty says _'the families have concurred that the shipment should be fair game to all'_ , and I say _'how'd you figure that, pal?'_  
I could always tell when Scotty got nervous. He had a tell in his left eye, made it pull tight. 

"Turns out these motherfuckers talked it through. Had a plan and everything—You got a map?" he asks her.

Lilly does. She hands her pink glitter cellphone over.

Tim shows her on the screen, "The shipment comes in through the Lower Bay area right, so that's Big-T's territory and he reckons it gives him at least quarter rights over whatever's in the box. And Stevo's saying once it goes up the Hudson it's his domain, and Anthony says the factory we secured for cooking the shit up in, borders on Queens."

"Fuck." Lilly muses, staring at the phone, she zooms in a bit.

"That's exactly what I'm thinking right then. Fuck. They ain't wrong. But I say, _'Jimmy's already paid for it, Jimmy's already organized everything. Are you tellin' me you wanna come in on a job, take what's due to Jimmy Piper, but you got no input you got no monetary value to offer here? Is that what you're saying?'_

"Then Scotty says, _'We don't want any trouble, Dum. We just wanna make sure what's fair is fair.'_

"I tell him nothing about this is fair, and to go back to the Bosses and tell them Jimmy ain't fuckin' interested in sharing. 

"Ugly Clint steps up, and he's standing closer, and he asks if that's my final answer. And I step up too, and I tell him it sure as hell is. Morita always said I got a bit of crazy in my eyes, that it scared people off. Becca said it's just the mustache. Either way, Ugly Clint and Scotty leave without another word. 

"We tell Jimmy when he comes back—his neck's still full of blue marks, his hair's all fucked up, and he got Wilson's shiny stuff on the tip of his nose—and Jimmy tells us we did good, he said ain't sharing, anyone who disagrees can take it up with him directly.

"And we thought that's it."

"Obviously wasn't." 

"Word got out that Jimmy'd been spending time at the club in Harlem. They assumed Jimmy has some kind of business going on there, given how much he was seen at the place. Maybe he owned half of it, maybe he's running his supply through the back."

"Who moved first?"

Tim takes a sip of tea, lights another smoke.

"Stevo's guys knew to get Jimmy to back off that shipment—and you know it was fair and square, Jimmy ain't jostled anyone for that he did it all by himself—they had to send a message.

"I don't know how familiar you are with the way we communicate, Miss Lilly, but we don't play no telephone-telephone."

> **_The New York Times, August 18th, 1991,_ ** _Unrest in New York as crime soars to new heights with recent explosions, and drive-by shootings. Death toll climbing to 12 this week._

"So Stevo put a hit out on Wilson, Gallager, Small Frank, Lazlo every guy working in and around that club; anyone who had any business with Jim; anyone who'd been seen with him. And Stevo made fuckin' sure Jimmy knew."

"Way to make a statement," Lilly says.

"Sure is. Now, 'coz Harlem fell under Stevo's borough, Stevo just assumed control. No one's gonna bat an eye if Stevo hits someone in his own borough. 

"Thing Stevo and his guys weren't prepared for was that Doll had been running the whole of Harlem right under their noses. You don't expect that from a guy wearin' shiny pink suits, do ya? And that was his advantage. His best play if you ask me. Harlem answered to him; they bowed to him. They were loyal to the last goddamn drop of blood." 

Lilly's looking at the picture of Doll mingling in the club. Tim knows that look. Doll had that effect on people—amazement jumbled with wonder and awe and a desire to just exist in his presence.

"He built his family from the inside: cartels, businesses, mills, anything you can think of. And he made it so that no one knew. How, I can't tell you. Jimmy's the only one who knew.

"So slowly, Stevo's guys started dropping—the guys sent to make the hits. Out of nowhere, just one after the other. Ugly Clint, Jay, Vito, Charlie, they blew up Stevo's wife's Corvette. And we spoke to Jimmy about it, said we can't be offing other families. It's gonna make everyone crazy. 

"Jimmy just smiled and said it ain't him dropping the guys. We didn't know the truth until that night at Rocco's."

> **_Good Morning America, April 4th, 1992,_ ** _Speculation runs rampant about what happened on December 16th, 1991, more importantly, why it happened. Initially labeled a hit gone wrong, recent emerging evidence indicates that there had been much more to the fateful night..._

"They called another meeting. Big-T had his men quarantined Jimmy's shipment the second it came in so no one could touch it until they reached an agreement. And after the failed hits on Doll plus Stevo's guys dropping like flies, things started getting tense. Something had to give. 

"So Jimmy's pissed but he said he'd hear them out. We ain't seen much of him the week leading up to it; we thought he was with Doll, later we heard Doll's guys thought Sammy was with us too."

"Hmm," Lilly hums, scribbling in her notebook, "Interesting. Do you know if they were, in fact, together? It'd make for a pretty good plot point if they were, given what transpired later on." she says.

Tim shrugs, "I can only guess. If Jimmy weren't with us, you'd find him with his Sammy Doll." 

Lilly writes something else down, so Tim continues.

"Jimmy came home just before the meeting that night, showered and got dressed, then pulled me into the bathroom with the water running. That's the first time I ever heard Jimmy whisper.

"Now, Bosses all have a ring, their family crest, and they walk with it, they live with it, they die and get buried with it. And then they got another one for whoever takes over the family when they're gone."

Lilly's eyes flick down to his index finger. She leans forward a little and holds her hand out. "Can I see?" 

Tim places his hand in hers, old and spotted with age compared to her youthful skin. She traces her finger over the golden crest of Tim's ring where it sits bulky and prominent, a constant reminding weight.

"It's beautiful, Mr. Dugan."

"Jimmy pulled out this ring and took my hand. He said, _'You know what to do, Dum Dum. You know I trust you, with my life, I trust you.'_ And I looked at him, and I think the craziness Morita said I had in my eyes watered down to fear maybe because my voice was real thin when I spoke again. 

"I said, _'Jim? What are you talkin' about? What is this?'_

"Outside, Jones turned up the stereo. Santo and Johnny were playing. 

"Jimmy put his hand on my face, again saying, _'I trust you.'_

 _"'Jim, no.'_ I said because I knew what he was saying without saying it. Guys like us, doing what we did, we always knew. 

"And he smiled—Wilson's glitter still around the edge of his lips—and told me, _'It is what it is.'_

"Now that's the sacred phrase. It's the cement of a sentence; it's the anchor of your words.

"It is what it is. 

"Ain't nothing left to do anymore, so I slip the ring on, I feel like crying, but I don't. I don't tell Jimmy that I love him like I love my own brother. I just put it on, watching Jim get ready, puttin' all his guns and knives in their places on his person. 

"Suppose the dead give away was when he handed us each an extra piece just before we got in the cars to leave for the meeting. Jimmy loved his guns."

> **_The New York Times, December 17th, 1991,_ ** _Fatal plane crash in the Hudson River, possibly linked to mob shootout at popular New York restaurant._

"I'm sorry if this is difficult for you to talk about, Mr. Dugan, we don't have to—"

Tim puts his hand up, takes a sip of his tea then a drag of smoke. He smiles at Lilly. "Their story deserves to be told."

Lilly nods, chewing on banana bread while they take a short reprieve. She keeps looking back at the framed portrait of Jimmy and Tim up on the wall. He can see the wheels turning behind her clever eyes. He knows she'll make good of this story. She'll do it justice the way it deserves. 

"It started out like any meeting with the Bosses." he says when they start again, "It was at Rocco's—you know the place, it's a burger joint now—they got dim lights so only the things meant to be seen are seen, the rest stays hidden. It's full enough with all the families that it looks like a regular night to anyone passing outside, but there ain't one unarmed man in there. 

"You got Big-T and his brother on the long side of the table. The brother went by Snake, slippery, greasy-haired motherfucker, could kill you with a butter knife." he shows Lilly a newspaper clipping of Snake and Big-T. "So they sit by the wall, got the guys who call themselves The Guardians behind them. 

"At the one head of the table you got Anthony and his advisor- Jamie Rhodes, and their guys, including a kid Tony mentored, couldn't be older than sixteen at the time.

"Then, on the other long end sits Stevo. Now Stevo always brought that Russian redhead wife of his with, Jimmy said it's to show off because she's a real looker and twice as mean so she scared a lot of guys off, but she was Stevo's backbone. What's left of Stevo's men are there too.

"And then, at the end, facing Anthony, you got Jimmy. He'd always sit back slumpin' like he's bored or something, but he's got a Glock resting on his thigh, one hand always under the table the other one holding his drink. And I'd be behind him, and our guys spread out next to me. 

"Anthony couldn't stand Jimmy- how he never wore a tie, saw it as some form of disrespect. Jimmy owned a thousand fuckin' ties I kid you not, but he went without it just to piss Anthony off some more. 

"They're all sitting, tension's hanging so thick no one can breathe, no one moves or makes a sound. Stevo's just tapping his ring against the table, and he's about to talk when the kitchen doors swing open and Wilson's walking in.

"He's got a blue sequined suit on, wearing mascara, I shit you not. And he's carrying. Ain't no doubt about it, just like Jimmy, hidden under that shiny suit. He looks at them and goes, _'Yall been treating Harlem like it's yours. We've been overlooked, we've been considered to be under your protection—'_

"And before he finishes, Stevo says, _'And you ain't?'_ cocking his head to the side the way he does when he challenges you, and he thinks he's won already, _'Who's been protecting you and your club, Sammy? Keepin' it in business?'_

"Doll gets that same smile as Jimmy on his face just then... I think they became each other, you know, some of the shit Jimmy did sometimes was like looking in a mirror at Doll. And that night I saw it in Sammy too. The way he wore his guns, his smile, the way he spoke."

Tim swallows back some emotion.

"Anyway, he said, _'You tell me, Rogers.'_

"And then Doll's guys start filing in, filling up the place. Jesus. 

"I ain't ever seen Stevo or Anthony or Big-T like that. Their faces looked like someone offed a baby right in front of them; guys who don't bat an eye at jack shit, but then Wilson's men expand 'coz he's now got all of Harlem, the whole fucking Bronx, he's got guys from Newark comin' in. Doubling whatever any of them has.

"Suddenly, you got all the Bosses on their feet. They're grabbing for their hardware."

Lilly's writing frantically. 

"But Jimmy's the one who moves forward, Glock swinging like a goddamn toy in his hand, and he walks right up to Doll. 

"Let me tell you, to anyone else it looked like Jimmy was about to pop one in Wilson's skull. But then Jimmy Fuckin' Piper says, _'You come into **our** meeting place, you carrying heat like this, dressed like _ **_this_ ** _… and you ain't even kiss me hello, huh?'_

"And he kisses that man flat on the goddamn mouth, filthy like you can't imagine."

Lilly chuckles, still writing. She says, "I can imagine their faces." 

"Listen," Tim's laughing too, this memory replays over and over again in his head, possibly the fondest of them all, "you ain't ever seen something like that. Not in a million years."

"And how'd they react?"

"I don't know if they were more surprised that Doll showed up there with his men or about the smooch, but Jimmy said, _'Now that we got your attention, I'd like to make something crystal clear. That shipment is ours. We ain't cutting shit, we ain't sharing shit.'_

"That's when I noticed Wilson's guy—you know him, Riley Gallager from Section 299—he's wearing the same ring I am. The crest turned around to our palms, so the others don't see it just yet. But he's wearing it too. And then I knew: Doll and Jim weren't planning to stick around."

"Who shot first? Most reports say two singular shots preceded the rest of the fire."

Tim nods, that's exactly what happened. "Stevo's redhead. Straight past Doll's head. A warning shot, 'coz she never missed. Then Jimmy put one in her shoulder right away, and all hell rained down."

> **_The Washington Post, December 17th, 1991,_ ** _Mob deal gone wrong claims 15 lives, 19 jailed including infamous crime family members Steven Rogers and Anthony Stark._
> 
> **_USA Today, December 17th, 1991,_ ** _Private Jet carrying what is believed to have been 550 kilograms of uncut Heroin crashes into the Hudson River. James Buchanan, known in mob circles as Jimmy Piper, along with his rumored lover & club owner Samuel Wilson, believed to have been on board. _

It's then that Lilly swallows, starting to look a bit dreary. Very quietly, she says, "Did Mr. Buchanan tell you he was planning to run off with Wilson and the cargo that night?"

"We were crouched behind a pillar, Wilson shooting out the left side—I think that's when he hit Snake—and Jimmy turned to me and told me 'bout the plane on the roof, that he and Wilson's gonna make a run for it because they'd never let them live after this. Jimmy said he'd take care of his family. He said once they got to the place they were headed, he'd make sure me and the guys were taken care of. Said he'd taken enough of the load with him to set us all up for life.

"I believed him. I still do. I know if that plane hadn't gone down…"

"There are rumors that it wasn't them on board the plane. That it had been staged. Have you heard those?" Lilly sounds hopeful. Tim can't help but smile like he does every time one of those stories makes the rounds again.

He says, "Jimmy Piper, bless his soul, was many things, Miss Lilly. I ain't surprised that a ghost story's one of them."

She seems to resign about that fact, closing her notebook with a deep sigh. "I can't thank you enough for meeting with me, Mr. Dugan."

"Got everything you need, Miss Lilly?" 

Lilly nods, pleased, "Think so, yeah."

Tim pushes up and gets his cane to walk Lilly out. It's late afternoon now, the sun's getting low and tinting the sky a bright orange. 

Lilly stops in the foyer, turning to Tim, "I'll send an invite for the first screening, if you'd come? I mean, once the film's done and polished and all that."

"If this old body's still around by then, I'd love to, Miss Lilly." 

They shake hands, and he watches her drive away. Greta comes to help him back inside to have lunch. 

While he's waiting at the table for his meal, he opens some mail that arrived the day before. It's mostly doctor's bills, statements, shopping leaflets, the regular stuff…

Except for one brightly colored postcard of a sunny beach road and palm trees all along the way.

Tim reads it:

 _Wish you were here— your Loving Family, Buck & Tom. _

And he smiles.

* * *

**December 16th, 1991, Monday, Rocco's Bistro, NY**

"Fuck! Fuck…"

There's a streak of Jim's blood smeared on the pillar they're ducking behind. He falls with his back flat against it. 

Doll's eyes widen, then fills with fury, and he flies out from behind the pillar and drops Snake and two of the Guardians, giving Big-T something else to do except shoot at them.

"Yeah, fuck, you got shot!! Jim—" he growls at Jim when he ducks down again.

"It's fine," Jim reaches back over his left shoulder and nods, "went right through. See?" 

"Let me look at it!!"

"You let me get us outta here. You can do whatever you want for the rest of your life, Dollface." He shoots a sharp, brilliant grin at Doll, "I swear."

"You talk real sweet, Jimmy baby. I love it."

His grin doesn't falter, "I know you do."

Jimmy grabs Doll by the neck and kisses him, tongue and everything, it's obvious now why he's always covered in all that shiny shit and glitter when he comes back from Harlem.

"Jim," Tim says, a little concerned, "You warm my heart, you really do, but it's getting heated in here."

Jimmy pulls away from Doll and looks Tim right in the eyes. He says, serious as Tim's ever heard him, "Dum, listen. Listen to me. I got a jet waitin'." 

Tim feels his face fall, "Jim, come on."

Jimmy whispers, "But I ain't gonna be on it, she's going in the water."

He can't help but laugh despite the bullets flying every which way and his shoulder bleeding like all hell. Jimmy laughs too, a little menacing.

"You crazy son of a bitch!" 

"Hush about it, Dum. You tell the pigs I was on that plane, tell 'em I wouldn't part with my riches, fuck, tell 'em I was the greediest stupidest motherfucker you ever knew!"

"Jesus, Jim. You are!"

"Shit's messed up, I know. You know they ain't lettin' Doll and me live, you know they won't. If they don't kill us here, there's gonna be a fat mark on my back for the rest of my life. On Doll's back too..." He takes Dugan's hand, "I'm gonna take care of you, all of you. I swear. You're my family, Dum. Tell the boys something for me, will ya?"

Tim salutes him, feels like crying again. Christ. "Anything Jim." 

Jimmy takes his hand, holds it tight, his ring and Tim's ring now side by side.

"You tell 'em, Piper said: if you gotta go, you gotta go!" 

And then he's on his feet, Wilson in tow. Their hands are clasped tight between them, and the last time he ever saw Jimmy Piper, he was running, looking back at his only sweetheart, an adrenaline-fueled smile on his face and the promise of forever twinkling in his eyes.

Anthony's guys tailed them, but Dugan took them down before they even set foot out the door. 

He heard the plane take off at the same time the cops arrived.

* * *

**2018, Rotten Tomatoes**

__________ **UNDERLORDS** ___________  
 _dir. Lilly Davis_

**Critics Consensus**

This first-hand account of the night that shook and shaped New York history leaves the audience nostalgically captivated. Brilliant performances by Madden and Britt.

**TOMATOMETER: AUDIENCE SCORE:**

97% 88%

Total Count: 532 Verified Ratings: 1,901

* * *

**Present Day, a little past noon, somewhere on the coast of [redacted]**

If you asked Buck back in '86 what he wanted in life, he'd have told you: a big house (a fuckin' castle why not, Dum, think bigger) a piece of ass on the side, suits from the finest tailors in town, his red Shelby and only the brightest diamonds.

He got halfway there. The castle is a small beach property, and the side ass is now his husband. But he's traded the suits for floral open-buttoned shirts and khaki shorts, the Shelby for a Jeep.

They've aged, though. Sam's knee gives him shit from time to time, but especially when the island weather throws out those stormy grey skies, and Buck's left shoulder never worked quite like it was supposed to after he got shot. Aside from that, they're in pretty good shape for their age, which might not have been the case if he stayed in New York.

And, as he's watching Sam stroll up the shaded, sandy path to their bungalow, he thinks that might have been the best thing to ever happen to him.

It's been so many years, and Bucky still ain't used to the way the midday sun hits Sam's face. Was the same way back at his club in Harlem when Buck first fell in love; the lights came down on him, and Buck remembers thinking he's never been that close to heaven before.

He told Dugan he wanted that every day for the rest of his life, pointing at Sam in his pink suit with his shiny cheekbones and his golden hoop earrings. A week later, he bought Sam a pair of platinum, diamond-studded hoop earrings and had it sent over to the club. Next time he and the boys went over, Sammy wore them with a white tux.

Dugan had to hold Buck up to walk; his knees went so weak.

Not a thing has changed in 30-something years.

"What you got, Doll?" Buck asks when Sam dusts his bare feet off on the welcome mat.

Sam wiggles a parcel from the post office at Buck, "Greetings from home, baby!" his grin alone says it's something from one of the boys. Jones writes often, Morita used to, rest is soul, and Bec sends photos of her kids and grandbabies. All to an address on a lone island no one's heard of before.

Sam comes to sit on the porch swing with him, stretches his legs out on the wooden crate too. He hands the parcel over to Buck.

Back in the day, Buck would have been terrified of opening anonymous parcels. Stevo had a dirty habit of gifting snitches with exploding presents.

But here, there ain't shit like that anymore. So, he rips the plastic open, removes the cardboard, and pulls out a videotape.

Well, he guesses they call it a fuckin' DVD now or something.

"Fuck me." He laughs with a breath.

"Sure. But why?"

Buck snorts at his husband and hands the DVD over. "No… they didn't!"

"Seems like it!" He pushes up and manages not to groan about it; he won't start groaning until Sam starts groaning. He refuses to be old first. "Come on. We gotta see this!"

"Of all the things Hollywood can make films of, they choose two old suckers from New York?" Sam's figuring out the goddamn DVD machine, and Bucky gets them each a martini cider from the fridge.

"Two old, _and in love_ suckers, who faked their deaths and ran off with millions worth of fuckin' smack. Don't forget that part, honey."

"Not like they know that…" Sam then reads a review on the film cover, "A dazzling depiction of choosing love over power. Breaking the mold and breaking stereotypes. A true masterpiece."

"Dazzling depiction, huh?"

Sam slips the movie into the machine, grinning over his shoulder at Buck, "I'll show you dazzling."

And as he comes to sit down, legs draped over Buck's like any other night, Buck tells him, "You do, Doll. Every day." He pinches Sam's chin and winks at him. 

He spends a few seconds just staring because he can, and it's real hard to fathom being this crazy over someone you've known so long. But he is, and he adores the shit out of Wilson. If he were to tell Buck right now, he wanted a goddamn golden bridge between here and home; there won't be a thing that'll stop Buck from giving it to him. 

Sam leans in for a kiss then, just when Buck's eyes start prickling with emotion. It's still as soft and sweet and filled with fiery promise as it was the first time they did it.

The movie starts with a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge and The Five Saints' _I'll Remember_ playing softly in the background. 

Sam looks up the actors: Richard Madden and B.J Britt, real good-looking guys, and someone named Damian Lewis playing Dugan.

He says, "Says here a fella called Anthony Mackie auditioned for me." and shows Buck a picture.

"Jesus," Buck says, hand on Sam's thigh, "he ain't look nothing like you."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!  
> I'm on Tumblr too: [glittercake](https://glittercake.tumblr.com/)


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